A Season of Tangled Red Threads
by halfbreedfox
Summary: What should have been an easy season of growth and reaching new goals is devolving into a test of each skater's mental fortitude and ability to find fulfillment. Neither Yuuri, Viktor or Yuri will be able to untangle their problems on their own and witnessing what happens when you try to conquer the threads on your own will be the light that shows them the first knot to untie.
1. Chapter 1

Yuuri was twisting the gold band about his finger with impatience and staring through the crowds. Being at the airport bothered him, but it bothered him that it bothered him at all. He traveled for his career and was not a nervous flyer. He wished he was at the rink right now, training instead. A warm hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched.

"You look like you're waiting for your date." Playful and teasing. Viktor smiled, but Yuuri did not find the joke funny. _You're the only one I go on dates with_ , Yuuri thought. "Too scared?"

"There's nothing to be scared of." He immediately replied. This wasn't fear.

"Exactly!" Viktor gave him a hard pat on the back, almost knocking his fiancé over. "You're so shy around people, but you've talked to them before."

"You did all of the talking with them, Viktor."

"Nonsense!" He wagged a finger at Yuuri. "I remember you being there during the video calls."

"But you did all the talking. You were so excited to plan out your new season outfits _and_ mine." Viktor hesitated for a moment, his mind playing back his memories behind blue eyes.

"I did do a lot of talking." Yuuri sighed. Viktor took the opportunity to wrap his arm around Yuuri's shoulders and pulled him close. "But it's alright. I don't think we have a pushy designer." The younger man did not look any more convinced and Viktor wondered if he misread his mood. Yuuri still twisted the ring about his finger.

"Mr. Nikiforov! Mr. Katsuki!" A voice called from behind. The pair turned around and almost jumped back. A young woman had crept up behind them without their notice, smiling wide with suitcases in tow, twirling a long strand of wavy golden brown hair between her fingers. Yuuri noted how small she was, having to actually look _down_ at her. She chuckled at them. "I'm sorry! I thought calling your name across the airport would cause too much attention, but you didn't notice me." Viktor's charm returned without hesitation and came with a smile.

" _Es tu Eva_?"

" _Bien sur_!" She exclaimed. " _Enchenté, monsieur! Comment allez vous_?" She leaned forward on her tiptoes and kissed Viktor's cheeks, who copied the greeting in turn and gave his answer. The hair on the back of Yuuri's neck stood on edge; the muscles in his back and shoulders tensed. Smiling, she turned to Yuuri, who had frozen at what he witnessed.

" _Et vous? Comment allez vous, Monsiuer Katsuki_?" It was almost like it was happening in slow motion. She leaned in and kissed his cheek ever so softly. All Yuuri could focus on was how hot his face was getting and how quickly his blood pressure jumped. Somewhere in reality, he heard Viktor laughing. " _Quel est le problème_?"

" _Yuuri ne parle pas français ou sait douane de français_."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Katsuki!" Her joyful demeanor fell and she took to twirling her hair again. "I got so excited when Mr. Nikiforov spoke French, I jumped into my usual habit! I was just saying hello!" She could not stop herself as she went on with her apology. Yuuri's guard melted as he listened and was gradually replaced with a guilt for causing her so much anxiety because of something _he_ did not know. Worsened by knowing he was practically enraged when he saw her greet Viktor, when it was just his cultural ignorance that caused his reaction.

"It's totally fine!" He interrupted, waving his hands to disperse the misunderstanding. "Really! I was just surprised! Wasn't prepared for it."

"Then let me start again!" The woman took a step back and thrust out her hand. "I am Eva Dupont, seamstress for The Paris Opera Ballet. It's nice to meet you!" Feeling only a little embarrassed, Yuuri gingerly took the woman's hand and shook it.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Eva Dupont." From the sidelines, he heard Viktor chuckle.

"Is this my Yuuri's first kiss from a girl?" An intense, acute pain hit Yuuri in the chest, like he had been stabbed. "I feel so blessed to be able to witness it!"

"Viktor!" Yuuri warned with a harsh whisper, leaning in dangerously close for his threat. But if Viktor ever felt fear, he did not know how to show it. On the contrary, he looked to be having a hard time keeping the grin off of his face. Feeling the erratic emotions in the air, Eva tapped the toe of her boot before figuring out what to do next.

"Oh!" She tried to get their attention. "I'm sure there's a lot to do and I don't want to take up your whole day. I already grabbed my bags so let's head off!" She smiled, hoping that the change of subject would help. With both sets of eyes on her, it seemed to.

"Yes, you're right!" Viktor agreed. "But we'll take it slow and easy, so as to not overwhelm you. St. Petersburg is a big city and you can get lost if you're not careful."

"This way to the street." Yuuri pointed out. He asked if Eva needed help with her luggage but she firmly denied the assistance, saying she only had the two bags. As they exited the airport, Viktor asked Eva if she needed to call her boss since she landed. Like remembering a forgotten chore, she began to dig out her phone and said she would call him during the drive. Viktor waved down a small van for them.

Loading up the bags and climbing into the cab, Eva gave Viktor the address of their destination to relay it to the driver. Once on the road, Eva called her boss.

"Can I talk to _Monsieur_ Vionnet?" Viktor asked while the call was still connecting. Eva agreed to hand him her phone when she was finished. Yuuri thought that Eva's boss must have cared for her, if he wanted his seamstress to call him right after arriving in a foreign country. They spoke in French, but from the tone of the conversation, it seemed light and caring, with Eva waiting patiently and answering questions with a smile. With a little prompting, Eva then turned her phone over for Viktor to use, having to stretch over Yuuri to give it to him. Of course, Viktor spoke to Vionnet in French too.

"Eva?" Yuuri asked in a lowered voice. He thought he could sit quietly, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hmm?"

"What is Viktor saying?" Eva took a few seconds to listen and replied.

"He's just saying thank you for the attention Mr. Vionnet is giving you two. And saying how excited he is." Yuuri was hit with a rude realization.

"Oh, yes! Thank you for coming so far to work on our costumes!" He bowed his head in appreciation. He should have said this sooner. Eva giggled nervously and waved her hands; she seemed just as much out of her element as when Yuuri experienced her French greeting.

"It's a wonderful opportunity! I'm so excited to be here! Besides," She relaxed. "This is a great challenge to show Mr. Vionnet that I can take the next step in my career." Yuuri let out an _'oh_ '; he did not realize that such stakes were made with this arrangement. In her own way, she was competing.

"I'm certain you'll make impressive outfits for Viktor and I and show your worth as a designer."

"Thank you! I will certainly do my best." Yuuri turned to Viktor and was surprised to see him still carrying on the call with Mr. Vionnet. He turned back to Eva.

"Is this sort of arrangement common? Designing outside of the ballet?"

"Very much so!" Eva perked up. "Collaboration between fashion worlds is very common for designers. Mr. Vionnet is notorious for it actually. He sticks with the Paris Opera Ballet because it's steady work and his favorite is ballet, but he enjoys designing for other sports and even fashion shows. It's why he has such a large staff under him; so much work to do."

"That's amazing. I didn't know he did all of that."

"Viktor is the one who asked to collaborate with Mr. Vionnet, huh?" Eva giggled. "Makes sense now why he did all of the talking before."

"That's right." Viktor answered, stretching past Yuuri and handing Eva her phone back. "Jacques designed one of my outfits and I thought it would be nice to work with him again."

"Really?" Yuuri asked with eyes lit up. Having a costume designed for him by the same man who did work for Viktor before had his little fanboy heart all aglow. "Which one?"

"Umm," Viktor thoughtfully tapped his lips, "That black one you liked so much." A little piece of Yuuri seized up as he processed the answer.

 _That black one_.

"You mean your outfit from the Junior World Championship that I used for my Eros program?"

"Yes! That one!" Eva answered, flicking past photos on her phone. She presented to them a photo of Yuuri in the middle of his program from the Grand Prix, dressed in the black and silver ensemble. "One of the seamstresses in the workshop is really into ice skating. When you started to take over the charts Mr. Katsuki, she was so excited for every event and had us watch the competitions together. She got a lot of us into it! Mr. Vionnet pointed out that he designed this outfit, but said he made it for a young Viktor Nikiforov years ago."

A short, awkward silence took over the cab.

"Young?"

 _Oh no_.

From the look on Eva's face, Yuuri knew that there was no salvaging what had been said. He turned and sure enough, Viktor had hid his face from them, listlessly looking out the window of the cab. "Have so many years passed already?"

Eva was a confused, apologizing a mess of words while Yuuri tried to help. Eva had clearly misremembered the event, Yuuri explained. Indeed, she was known for her poor memory and was teased in the workroom, Eva supported. They went back and forth for a bit, but clearly they were talking to an immutable wall of Viktor's insecurities. The cab stopped and the driver said something in Russian, turning back to the trio and jabbing his thumb outside. And that was all it took for Viktor's mood to change.

"We're here!" He exclaimed as he slid out of the van. Eva sputtered something in Russian with a thick accent to the driver and dug out some bills from her purse. She smiled and handed over the fare. Yuuri and Viktor took the time to unload her bags.

"Where is here?" Yuuri asked, realizing that they were standing in front of an apartment complex he was not familiar with.

"Just where I'll be staying while I work for you two." She thanked the men as she took her luggage from them.

"Where would you like to go now?" Viktor asked the young woman as she returned from settling her things in her room. The process of getting into the little flat was a bit of a process between the landlady and the language barrier, but it was furnished with the bare necessities and ready for Eva. Yuuri wondered if that was something this particular apartment building could do for tenants for an extra fee, or if all of this was bought and set up specifically for Eva.

"I'm here for work. I don't want to hold you two back from your training." Eva explained. "I have an address to the rink you practice at. Anything else I can get directions for on my own or ask for help." She held up her phone for emphasis.

"Oh? But you're Russian is so poor." Yuuri sympathized with the little pain Eva felt at that moment. Viktor was honest but not known for his patience. He had to help walk Eva through her interaction with the landlady and even read through her contract, pointing out and translating the important elements in the agreement. And hearing her Russian to the cab driver? Yuuri knew he had a few pointers on her pronunciation.

"Maybe Eva is tired and is trying to be polite."

"I'm fine." The woman straightened her shoulders and gave a smile. "If you'd like to help me, Mr. Nikiforov, then I won't refuse your kindness." Viktor smiled.

" _Bien_! And call Yuuri and I by our first names." He wrapped his arm around Yuuri's shoulders and pulled him close. "You're going to be making our competition costumes, after all. We should be on friendly terms!"

It was in a quiet, fleeting moment when Yuuri saw something switch in Eva. If he wasn't looking at her right then, he might not have ever noticed it. Her eyes became a little softer and her posture relaxed a little. She had realized something and it had made her completely readable to Yuuri. Here she was, a foreign seamstress in a country she didn't know the language of, without a familiar face to find comfort in, for a project that could possibly change her designing career. Yuuri wanted to reach out, finding something familiar in that look of hers, but it was dismissed almost as quickly as it had slipped out. Eva replied with a genuine smile.

"I would like that a lot!"

They showed Eva the Yubileyny Sport Club where they train and the closest supermarket to her apartment. That quickly devolved into the best cafes in the area and some quiet little parks if she ever needed to refresh her mind from all of her work. They, of course, had to try a cup of coffee and some sweets for comparison. Then when Eva asked if she should plan a day to see anything special, Viktor ran through a list of his favorite places and events in St. Petersburg, showing her some of his favorite places to eat and drink. By this point, Eva was completely enthralled with the city and seduced by the colorful lights of a popular street known for its bars and wanted to try local, Russian vodka. Yuuri, usually known for his stamina, stood on the sidelines and wondered where this small woman got her energy from. He asked her how she was feeling after all the excitement from the day.

Eva said she felt great and led them into a bar.

In this little establishment with few patrons visiting on this weeknight and easy music playing in the background, Yuuri found some solace. At least it wasn't packed to the walls with loud men talking over blaring music. Viktor sat them at the bar for easy ordering.

Eva was surprisingly comfortable drinking an array of beverages, from shots to mixed drinks to local beer. Yuuri had a favorite and he was not inclined to be experimental tonight. Eva had become very talkative and loved asking questions almost as much as she loved answering them.

How did you learn English?

My mother is American. Learned it growing up.

Where did you grow up?

Marseille. I'm still not used to Paris winters!

How did you become a seamstress for the Paris Opera Ballet?

I wanted to be a ballerina when I was little, but I wasn't very good! I learned I liked making costumes more and ran with it!

Where do you live in Paris?

In a little flat with two other Ballet seamstresses.

Do you have a boyfriend?

Yes, I do!

And it was at this point the conversation took a long tangent on just Eva's boyfriend. It was cute to see her so smitten with him, but Yuuri couldn't decide if her cheeks were pink from affection or from drinking. He is a dancer in the ballet, just admitted a little over a year ago; that's how they met. Their one year anniversary will be next month. Eva had to show them a picture at this point, according to her. Yuuri leaned in to get a good look and had to nod. He was a pretty looking guy.

"Oh! Let's take a photo!" Eva suddenly exclaimed. Yuuri gave some dissenting noises but they were in vain. Viktor squeezed the three of them together to fit in the frame. Yuuri hoped that his smile was coming across as sincere and not awkward, like it felt.

"Eva, take a photo of Yuuri and me now!" He pushed his phone into the woman's hands.

"Really, Viktor."

"I'd love to!" Eva fussed at the two of them to make some sort of cute pose, which Viktor did with enthusiasm. But she wasn't content to take just one photo. She asked them to switch sides, claiming Viktor's hair was too long on his left side and then she asked them to kiss. Yuuri was not sure when she turned into a paparazzo and he wondered how many pictures were on her Instagram account. But her attention was caught by something else mid-session.

"Oh, I just love your rings!" It was too much. Yuuri could feel his face heat up. "May I see them?"

"Of course!" Viktor acquiesced and grabbed a hold of his finacé's wrist, Yuuri's ears burning all the while. He held them up for Eva to see. "Simple yet beautiful."

"Purity needs no adornment." The woman replied with a smile. Yuuri wondered if he was that easy to read in his embarrassment or if Eva was too good at reading people. Or perhaps her philosophy on love was similar to his?

"I can't believe how shiny they are!" Or perhaps Yuuri was giving her too much credit. "I thought there was some editing done with them when I watched your couple's skate, but they really just shine like that!"

"Are they that bright?" Yuuri turned his hand around to examine it himself. He, of course, thought it was bright and beautiful, but he figured that was just him and his special bond with the ring. Was it that obvious to everyone else? Distracted, Viktor took the opportunity to drape himself over Yuri's shoulders in an elegant, melting way. He rubbed their cheeks together and the younger man noticed how warm his finacé's face was. Eva cooed a _mignonne_ , whatever that was.

As the evening rolled on, Yuuri was fearing resistance to leave the bar for the night, but when he spoke up Eva supported his decision. "I've had enough for the night" would have sounded responsible if she wasn't laughing while she said it. She and Viktor did have a little spat over the payment of their tab, but Eva bowed out quickly. She grabbed a hold of Yuuri and asked for his help hailing a cab while Viktor paid, but her true intentions were revealed very quickly when they exited. Eva pulled open Yuuri's jacket as he flailed about, confused and wondering what to do next, and then realized that she was thrusting a small wad a bills into his interior coat pocket. She responded with a wink.

"Our little secret." She placed a finger to her lips as Yuri tried to rub his cold hands against his hot face. Viktor joined them and gave them a playful, disapproving look.

"Where is the cab?"

"Our Russian isn't very good!" With a smile, Viktor hailed a cab. Eva wished the pair a good night and lavish thank yous for the day. She jumped in, gave the address of her apartment very slowly and was off. Thinking he rubbed all the red off of his cheeks, Yuuri waited patiently for Viktor to hail themselves a cab.

"You did a lot for her today." He mentioned as the cab pulled up. Viktor opened the door for him.

"You think so?" A noncommittal response as he joined Yuuri in the cab. He gave their address to the driver.

"I think she's grateful for it." Yuuri tapped a finger against his knee. "Did you feel like you owed it to her? For Mr. Vionnet?"

"I see it like this: she's going to be making something personal for me, something to help me with what I want. If I want her to make the best product for me, I feel like she can do that better if we build a good relationship." Viktor smiled. "Today was like a warm-up. Getting to know each other, to help our professional relationship in the future. Besides," He reached over and caressed Yuuri's fidgety hand, snaking his way over Yuuri's knee and thigh. "She's going to be touching our bodies a lot, so we better be comfortable with each other!"

"Viktor!"

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! More to come soon! I'm thinking of updating every three weeks, so please look forward to more!


	2. Chapter 2

Yuri Plisetsky would not say that he was a morning person, but he did not have any trouble getting up in the morning for the opportunity to talk to Otabek Altin. Almaty is three hours ahead of St. Petersburg, so right around when Yuri was getting up and heading to the rink, Otabek was taking a short break to cool down for an early lunch. Yuri would not call his close friend _every_ day, but he found himself looking forward to those calls during the middle of the week when the practice sessions seemed longest.

This morning in particular was an abnormal one for Yuri. He had slept through his alarm and was awoken by the ringing of his phone. He turned over, picked it up and nearly jumped out of his skin when he read Otabek's name. He doubled checked the time between his phone and his bedside clock before confirming the terrible truth: he had overslept. He quickly threw off the sheets and answered the phone, apologizing to his good friend before the other could even get a word in. He was answered with an entertained laugh.

"Lilia is gonna kill me." Yuri grumbled, fumbling between balancing his phone on his shoulder and pulling on pants before groaning and realizing that he could just put Otabek on speaker. Both Yakov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya had reluctantly let Yuri live on his own. His coaches felt that the change in routine would disrupt his winning algorithm, but the young gold medalist had an itch to become independent. If he could win gold at his senior debut at the Grand Prix, surely he could manage to take care of himself. They agreed on the condition that they co-sign Yuri's lease and he stay in a flat just down the hall from them.

Otabek consoled his friend, explained that he was only human and asked him what his day would be like. Yuri gave a quick rundown of his plans as he pulled over a shirt; a long-sleeved, black athletic tee with a tiny Kazakhstan flag on the right breast that Otabek sent him as a birthday present. He asked Otabek how his morning was and what the rest of his day was going to be, buying himself time to quickly brush his teeth. He frowned when he noticed the shirt was a little short in length, the barest glimpse of his hips showing. Had it shrunk in the wash?

Yuri grabbed a granola bar as he sped out the door with keys in hand and a bag over his shoulder. Yakov would scold him for skipping breakfast, but something was better than nothing. He talked with Otabek all the way to his rink, forgoing his usual jog for the speed of a taxi. He walked through the front doors of the sports complex, saying his goodbyes when a terrible screeching noise echoed through the hallways.

"What was that?" Otabek asked.

"I'll text you later." Yuri put away his phone and decided that since he was already late, he could satiate his curiosity and spend another minute figuring out what that awful noise was. It was not coming from the ice rink, but rather from the long, winding halls of storage rooms and offices. He peered around one curving corner and found a curious scene: a bunch of old, decrepit junk littering the hallway while a door was propped open. The screeching noise was becoming unbearable as an unfamiliar woman tugged a large table out of the room. She was not a staff member of the rink; was she pilfering old supplies? He marched his way up to the intruder, getting a little angry as his approach went unnoticed. The woman flopped onto the table with an exhausted sigh when she finally extracted it out of the room. Vulnerable and unaware, Yuri attacked.

" _Hey!_ " The woman jumped and flipped around, her golden brown hair falling loose from her messy bun. The color reminded Yuri of fresh baked bread, which made him hungry and made him angrier. " _What do you think you're doing?_ "

" _Quoi_?"

" _How'd you get in?_ " The woman, finally realizing that she was talking to someone her junior, found some confidence and answered.

" _Russian… not good. English?_ " Yuri glared at her.

"What are you doing? How'd you get in?"

"I'm just clearing out the room. I'm Viktor and Yuri's costume designer, Eva Dupont." She straightened herself and Yuri was a little put off that he found himself looking _down_ at her. It was so different and distracting that he did not register that she was examining him. "Your shirt doesn't fit. Did you know that?" Yuri felt a throbbing pulse in his forehead.

"It fits just fine!"  
"Yuri!" The teenager groaned. He knew that gruff voice. He ever so slightly looked over his shoulder to confirm that Yakov had indeed found him. " _You're late! And you're wasting daylight by harassing people! Get on the ice!_ " Yuri turned back on the woman.

"Don't interrupt practice." He warned, turning around and facing his punishment. Yakov did chew him out when they met, but it was not as bad as he feared. They were heading towards the locker rooms when his coach said,

"You slipped up, but you're doing well overall. I thought you would be sleeping in late more often." Yuri was a little stunned, staring to make sure that it was his old Yakov standing next to him and not some impeccable imposter. He did not expect this leniency between his lateness and his temper, but he mumbled out a thanks as he pushed back a lock of loose hair behind his ear.

Eva watched as her attacker left, a little perplexed from the excitement of an otherwise boring morning. If she was remembering the Grand Prix telecast correctly, that was the boy who took first place just ahead of Yuuri. Wasn't his name Yuri too? _'Pretty boy, but his attitude could use work,'_ she mused. Turning back, she examined her work. She managed to get the table out of the room, but it was still blocking the door. She sighed and readjusted her bun.

When Eva was not cleaning and setting up her workroom, she took breaks by studying Viktor and Yuuri skate. She would quietly come into the rink and sit on the sidelines, a sketchbook on her lap and a pencil in hand, and scribble quick figures for several pages. Viktor would take long breaks to sit next to her and watch her work, which would then prompt Yuri to come by and scold Viktor for his lackadaisical attitude towards training. A handful of times, Yuuri's curiosity would get the best of him and he would stop practice to watch Eva draw Viktor's figure in quick, emphatic lines. Sometimes they were just an amalgamation of action lines to capture the moment, but other times Yuuri's jaw would drop with how quickly Eva could catch his fiancé's likeness in graphite. At the end of practice one day, both men took a seat by Eva and flipped through her sketchbook.

"Why do you do these?" Yuuri asked.

"They help me visualize your costumes in action." She then asked if they would be willing to sit down and finalize their costume designs this weekend. She would go out and buy fabric the following Monday.

"You're such a hard worker." Viktor commented. "Come to our place tomorrow; we'll do it there." Eva suggested a time in the morning and Yuuri shared their address with her. Yuuri then spent the evening cleaning the apartment while Viktor lounged on the couch with his poodle, watching his fiancé with an amused grin. It was not that their flat was dirty, it just needed a few details corrected to make it proper for visitors, according to Yuuri. When Yuuri was sick of Viktor giggling at him, he tossed a dishcloth at his face and asked that he dust. Viktor was a poor duster, finding more amusement in using the cloth as an impromptu toy for Makkachin to play with.

The next morning, Yuuri answered the door expecting to see a young woman with a single sketchbook in her hands, but what he got was a frazzled looking girl with an armful of folders with a small rolling case in tow. Eva greeted him with a smile all the same though.

"Good morning, Yuuri!"

"Good morning. Do you need help?" He stepped aside to let her through. She declined his offer and headed straight for the couch, dropping her folders on the low coffee table and unzipping her case. Makkachin was a bit too interested in the new bag, wet nose sniffing around in the compartments. Eva chuckled at the large dog and petted its large head.

"This is Makkachin, right?" Viktor confirmed her question as he came from the kitchen, three coffee mugs in his hands. He handed one to the seamstress who happily lightened his burden. "I love dogs." Eva made herself comfortable on the sofa while she continued to rub Makkachin's fluffy ear. Makkachin found the attention from the stranger much more pleasing than searching her bag and moved to lay its head on her knees. "I can't have one where I live though. One of my roommates is allergic."

"Then feel free to come by more often! Yakov doesn't like me bringing Makkachin to practice because everyone gets distracted." An excited spark suddenly glinted in the man's blue eyes. "But maybe Makkachin could hang out with you at the rink!"

"I would love that!" Eva began to ruffle up the fluffy fur with glee. "Would you like that, cutie?" Makkachin's large pink tongue lolled out of its mouth in an adorable smile of approval. Yuuri took his mug of coffee and waited for the elation to die down. Those two had an excitable nature that mirrored each other in an eerie yet endearing way. Yuuri thought it was better to let them tire each other out than interrupt and become the focus of their attention, remembering the measuring incident of about a week before.

"You brought a lot more stuff that I expected, Eva." Yuuri gently interrupted while picking up a folder. Eva explained that she brought over all the sketches she and Mr. Vionnet ever did. Between two men and two costumes for each, it added up to a lot of trial and error.

"I think that folder is yours, Yuuri." She said as she pulled out a box of colorful markers from her case. Yuuri opened it and was a little overwhelmed when it revealed not a small stack of sketches almost pouring out. "I think that's your short program outfit."

"This is just for _one_ outfit?" He began to quickly flip through the pages. Eva gave a silly grin as if to say 'of course!'

"It looks rather typical for costume development." Viktor commented, picking up a folder to flip through.

"It may be a bit bigger than normal. Mr. Vionnet and I took really different approaches to all of the designs, so we had a longer preliminary process until we agreed on certain elements. But this," Eva pulled out a leather organizer and held it to her heart, "has all of the latest design approvals for both of you. So we can build from here."

"Then why bring all of these?" Yuuri was getting confused.

"In case you changed your mind and wanted to revisit a past idea." Eva tossed aside the remaining folders to the corners of the table, making space in the middle and pulling out a few illustrations to make the focus of their project. She then pulled out a sketchbook and pencil, flipping to a clean page and scratching some notes on it before saying, "So, what do we like and don't like about these designs?"

For the next week, Eva was holed up in her workshop working on the costumes. True to his word, Viktor made sure to bring by Makkachin to keep her company. Practice had somehow become grueling for Yuuri. Viktor was pushing him hard on the ice and though he could do what was asked of him, he was not satisfied with his work. He had come a long way from being limited in his jumps to hardly failing in anything that he attempted, but whenever he watched Viktor practice he could only think about how he was still coming up short compared to that god on the ice. He could not figure out what was causing the gap: between the support and love he had from Viktor and the impressive growth of his skills as a skater, he was completely happy. So what was this invisible wall that was stopping him from what he knew he could do?

Makkachin had sneaked out of the sewing room and was nudging a wet nose under Yuuri's elbow, looking for attention. Yuuri smiled and stopped untying his skates to accommodate the fluffy poodle. The dog's large eyes were staring out at the ice, obviously watching Viktor as he stayed late, practicing step sequences and spins while he cooled down. Yuuri sighed and hugged Makkachin close. His fiancé was intoxicating to watch. To him, Viktor was incapable of making a mistake even in practice. He almost never fell while practicing his jumps, even after taking a break for a year. He was, however, capable of making himself dizzy during his spins when he was not paying attention. Yuuri found the slightly off balance Viktor cute as these slip-ups only came up at the end of his practice and the first sign that he was getting tired. Yuuri finished pulling off his skates and rolled his ankles.

"Viktor," Yuuri called. His fiancé paused his conversation with Yakov and gave him his attention. "I'm going home. I'll have dinner ready for you."

"Thank you, Yuuri!" He happily waved, a giant, goofy grin on his face. "I'll be home soon!" Yuuri waved back and picked up his skates to leave. Makkachin followed. He made sure to peek into Eva's workroom and wish her a good night. She paused in pinning a mock-up together to wave back and wish him a goodnight too.

"Vitya, what's going on?" Yakov asked, his wrinkled brow furrowing more as he studied his most prolific protégé. Viktor waited until his fiancé was out of sight, then sighed and collapsed against the rink wall in a dramatic fashion. Yakov held back an eye roll at this supposed adult.

"I don't really know what it is."

"Are you just looking for attention? You shouldn't need me so-"

"That's not it at all, Yakov." If he had the strength, Viktor would have jumped in the old man's face, but all he could manage was a glare from his pillow of folded arms. That was all the answer that he needed to know that Viktor was serious and troubled over something.

"You're going to have to overcome whatever this is if you want a chance to reclaim your place at the top. Your Yuuri is in the best form of his career. And Yuri is starting to grow. It's either going to make him unbeatable, or overtake him."

"Threatened by a sixteen-year-old." Viktor scoffed.

"Are you going to tell me exactly what's bothering you? Or did you just want to wallow for a bit longer?"

"Yakov, I think that year off did more damage than I anticipated." He picked himself up and pushed back his hair in frustration. "I kept up my strength by practicing with Yuuri, but going over these routines feels… forced. It's underwhelming even when I'm pushing myself. How can I surprise everyone when I don't even like what I'm doing?"

"What do you think is causing this uneasiness in you?"

"I don't know. Maybe I've picked the wrong music."

"It's not the music, Vitya. You don't make novice mistakes." The older man gave a reassuring pat on Viktor's shoulder. "And you're not threatened by Yuri, either of them." Viktor raised an eyebrow, not certain if he agreed with the assessment.

"Then what is it?"

"I can't tell you." Viktor let out an unsatisfied grumble, frowning. Yakov flicked the man's ear as punishment; how dare he growl at his coach. "Telling you would ruin your growth."

"Yakov, I'm twenty-eight. There's no more growing to be had."

"You can be an idiot. You're a gift horse trying to look into your own mouth; of course you can't see well."

"Did you just have a stroke?" Viktor was certain what had come from the old man's mouth was complete gibberish.

"I'm perfectly healthy! Don't come to me for help if you're going to ignore me."

"You didn't tell me anything though!"

"You are hopeless." Yakov pulled Viktor up to stand straight and pushed him to leave. "Go home, relax, and think about it again when you're not being childish." Viktor thought about pushing the issue, but he had been stressing about his abilities all day and he rather liked the idea of returning home to his fiancé. Yakov stayed with him while he changed and packed his things, talking to him about the minutia of the other skaters, mostly about Mila Babicheva as her performance in the women's skating competition last season was marked with great strides compared to the year before. They left together but parted ways at the curb. Viktor hugged his coach and thanked him for his help, even if it was oblique. Yakov managed a chuckle and wished his student a good night.

Viktor opened the door to his flat and inhaled the comforting smell of a homemade dinner and the happy barks of an old friend. He hugged Makkachin close as Yuuri peered from around the corner of the kitchen.

"Viktor! You're a little early."

"I was too excited to return to you. Couldn't practice." He said as he carried Makkachin in his arms like a giant teddy bear. Yuuri's cheeks bloomed a light pink shade and Viktor's heart melted. Even though they had been together for several months and Viktor said such things daily, Yuuri still felt the words whole heartedly enough to blush in his peculiar way of appreciation.

"It'll be a little bit before dinner is ready."

"Dinner I can wait for. But dessert," Viktor put his dog down and took a hold of his fiancé, turning his face so they were facing each other for a kiss. "I will be impatient for."

* * *

A/N: FF formatting is driving me up a wall. I'm sorry if I jump randomly between scenes. I write it with a little marker indicating that the scene is changing, but these line breaks seem like overkill as a replacement. Opinions? Would a handful of line breaks bother you? As always, thank you for reading! More to come!


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